


Remembrance

by PyroKlepto



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroKlepto/pseuds/PyroKlepto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton Lassiter didn't always follow the rules, until one day, breaking them had consequences for someone other than him. When a long-running case begins to dredge up memories he tried to leave behind, he has to struggle to come to terms with what he has done - as well as solve the case before it's too late, and the past is repeated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> This is, I warn you, a pretty rubbish fanfiction and more than a little bit AU. But the idea came into mind and wouldn't leave, so here I am writing it. General trigger warning for the entire book: it involves children-related crimes. Nothing is ever too detailed, but that's a warning. For this particular chapter: someone is shot. Be forewarned. And that's about it; leave a comment if you have anything to say!

A grocery store was not the place Carlton Lassiter - a senior now in high school - wanted to be working. He wasn’t actually sure where he wanted to be working, he just knew that he would much rather be involved in theatre or figure skating than stocking shelves and assisting grouchy customers.

But it was a job, and he was making money. That was a good thing.

So he didn’t complain. Much.

“Carlton!”

He looked up from the crate of bread he was sorting through, seeing his department’s manager standing there. “Yes?”

“We had another order of milk brought in. It needs to be shelved, ASAP.”

“What about this?” Carlton gestured at this current task. 

“It’ll keep, don’t worry.” Floyd - the manager - waved a hand dismissively. “Take care of the milk first. I’d have Donna do it, but it’s not a product that belongs in her department.”

“Right.” Carlton straightened up, brushing off the apron he - and the rest of his coworkers - wore. “I’ll get on that.”

“Great, thanks.” Floyd waved, and then continued walking, leaving Carlton to make his way into the stock room. 

It was colder here than in the main store, causing tiny raised bumps to appear on his arms beneath the sleeves of his shirt. He tensed, hunching his shoulders to preserve warmth as he made his way toward the loading dock. 

On his way there, Carlton reached out to stop one of the coworkers he recognised from his department. “Hey, Jody. Floyd said we had some milk come in that needed to be shelved?”

“Yeah. Back there.” Jody nodded toward the back, shaggy blond hair falling across his face. He reached up to push it behind his ears. 

“Thanks.” Carlton turned to walk in the direction Jody had indicated, his footsteps on the concrete floor louder than normal amongst the crates, pallets, and boxes.

He located the milk cartons a moment later, resting on a cart by the wall. Carlton took hold of the handle, beginning to maneouvre the car toward the main store.

Before he could reach the swinging doors, there was a faint staticky sound, and a voice came over the emergency pager. 

“ _Attention, all associates. We have a missing child. I repeat, we have a missing child. His name is Luke. Seven-year-old boy, brown hair, wearing blue jeans and a grey sweater. Please halt what you’re doing and search your assigned departments for him. If the child is located, notify your manager and bring him back to his parents - they are waiting at Entrance A._ ”

The person on the pager repeated what she had said, and then went silent.

There was a moment of stillness where no one moved, the information slowly sinking in. And then everyone began to move all at once. Carlton dropped the handle of the card, making his way toward the section of the store where he usually worked. His heart rate had spiked, and all senses were alert.

He began a methodical search - looking behind every shelf, in every corner, and even inside a few abandoned shopping carts.

He saw no sign of the missing boy. But he kept searching, walking circles around the area. 

And when he saw no one, he left that department and made his way toward the Produce section, which was located near one of the three entrances to the store. Yes, he was supposed to stick to his own area. But there was no one else here, not even stray shoppers - someone needed to check for the missing child here as well, and if no one else was going to, then Carlton would.

He kept looking, and then a flicker of movement caught his eye. Pausing, Carlton turned in that direction. 

Two people - a man and a boy - were ducking out from behind a shelf of bread. For a moment, Carlton assumed they were simply shoppers set on edge by the relative chaos of a missing child. But then something else caught his attention.

_Blue jeans… grey sweater…_

Luke.

The woman over the pager had said that the parents would be at Entrance A… so who was the man leading the boy out of the store?

Carlton’s heart rate spiked, and his mind threw him into danger mode. He began making his way toward the exit, taking his pager from his belt.

“Floyd?” he said, voice hushed.

“Carlton, is that you? Why are you speaking so quietly? Did you find the missing boy?”

“Yes. Someone is taking him out of the store. I’m going to follow.”

“Wha--do not follow. The police will be called. You are, under no circumstances, to try and intervene!”

Carlton turned his pager off. The boy and unknown man had left the store.

He didn’t even pause before speeding his pace and exiting the building, keeping Luke in his sights. If he didn’t attempt to intervene, it might be too late - what if the police didn’t get to him in time? Carlton couldn’t just stand back and watch while a boy was kidnapped, possibly never to be seen again.

He was breaking rules, and he knew it. But he also knew that he just could not let this happen without trying to stop it.

Carlton ducked behind cars in the parking lot, still following without allowing himself to be seen. The man stopped outside a gold-coloured Cadillac, saying something to the boy that Carlton couldn’t hear.

Then the man opened the door of the car and pushed the boy into the backseat.

Carlton’s mind raced, hunting desperately for some course of action to take. Only one came to him - so the moment the man climbed into the drivers’ seat, Carlton bolted forward.

The back door was no doubt locked, so he wrenched the passenger door open just as the engine started, throwing himself inside. 

“What the hell!” The kidnapper stared at him, expression equal parts horrified and furious. 

Carlton was sure he would never breathe again. He didn’t speak at first, trying to hide the trembling of his hands. 

“Get out of here, or you’re going to regret it.” 

“Let the boy go,” Carlton responded, a faint sense of pride emerging at the fact that he had managed to keep his voice from shaking or faltering.

“No.”

That was it. One monosyllabic answer as the man frantically looked back and forth across the parking lot.

“You can’t do this.” The comment was obvious, but Carlton wasn’t sure what else to say. 

“All right, how are you going to stop me?”

Carlton hadn’t thought that far, and truth be told, he was terrified. But he had wanted to follow Luke, and try to save him; so what could he do now? He couldn’t just leap out of the car, not now. “The police are on their way.”

“Well, okay then.” The man went very still, his entire body tense.

And then he shifted the car into gear, and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

Carlton’s heart plummeted. For a moment, the thought _I’m going to die_ was all that thrummed through his mind.

After a moment, he drew in a deep breath and carefully clicked his pager on. They were probably too far away from the store by now, but maybe… 

“Why are you doing this, anyway? What’s the reasoning behind it?” He glanced out the window. “There’s the diner. Where are we going?”

“None of your business. Shut up, kid.”

“Well, now you have two of us.” Carlton could hear the little boy sniffling in the backseat. ”What now?”

There was no response. Whatever this man was, he was dead set on keeping silent.

Carlton struggled to remain calm, so that he could come up with some sort of plan. He needed to do _something…_

But as it turned out, he didn’t have the chance. The car eventually coasted to a stop somewhere outside of the main city, at a small house near a field.

“Get out. Both of you.” A click. “And don’t think of running. I have a gun.”

Carlton couldn’t say that the presence of a gun was a surprise. He had assumed the kidnapper had some sort of weapon on him.

He opened the passenger door and stepped outside, long grass rustling around him. The young boy showed no sign of getting out of the Cadillac.

After a brief moment’s thought, Carlton walked around the front of the car, leaving Luke inside and sending a silent prayer to God. _Please keep him from getting out of the car._

“Hey! Brat! Out here, now!” The man approached again, face set in a dark scowl. He turned his back to Carlton - just for a moment - and started to open the door. And Carlton made his move. 

He was skinny - he always had been - but if he could just gain some element of surprise…

It was like slamming into a brick wall. But the kidnapper temporarily lost his balance, swearing as his head knocked into the edge of the car door. Carlton didn’t back off, desperately trying to get the upper hand in any way possible; clawing, grasping, clinging, anything to catch the man off guard.

An elbow to the throat sent Carlton falling backward, fighting for breath at the same time as attempting to stand and throw himself at the kidnapper again.

Then everything seemed to slow down all at once. There was a flash of grey as Luke leapt from the car and started running.

A loud crack. Carlton finally stumbled to his feet. The sound - and what it was - registered in his mind.

And then his heart stopped. Blue denim peeked out from long grass. Luke didn’t move. 

“No--” Carlton’s first reaction was to try and reach the boy, to assess the damage. But the kidnapper - _murderer_ \- had other ideas.

He lowered the still-smoking gun, moving forward before Carlton could blink, and gripped him tightly by the neck. 

“I wasn’t gonna kill him. I was gonna ask for a ransom. Then you had to go screw things up, didn’t you? Make him think he could _run_!”

He shoved Carlton forward with enough force to send him slamming into the side of the car. 

Carlton’s ears were ringing. He couldn’t make out what the man was saying. Then strong hands locked onto his neck, shoving him forward multiple times, head colliding with the side of the car. 

Then everything went black.

 

Steady beeping. The murmuring of voices in the distance, muffled. The scent of antibacterial wash. 

Even before Carlton opened his eyes he knew he was in the hospital. But how he had gotten there was unclear… and he didn’t quite remember why he was there either.

And then a voice. “Carlton! What were you thinking?”

Carlton blinked up at his mother, who looked equal parts angry and worried. For a moment, he struggled to grasp his thoughts, then asked, “What happened?”

“What happened? Oh, god, do you have amnesia?” She wrung her hands, showing that her harsh words were out of fear and not anger.

“I--” His voice cracked, and he coughed before speaking again. “No, I remember… getting into a gold Cadillac, to follow the missing boy… everything after’s kinda fuzzy.” He paused, glancing down at the blankets that covered his entire upper half. “What’s on my shoulder…?” 

“A-a cast. I mean, a sling.” She was distracted now, looking at the monitor beside the bed. 

“What happened--” Carlton started to ask again, but footsteps cut him off. He looked in that direction to see a doctor in a white coat approaching.

“”Hey, you’re awake.” The man stopped beside the bed, offering a warm smile; though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m Dr. Portello. How are you feeling, Carlton?”

“My head hurts, and my shoulder feels strange.” Carlton didn’t wait for an explanation. “What happened? I remember going to some farmhouse with a kidnapper. I can’t remember anything after that.” And it frustrated him, because he knew something had happened, but trying to remember it was like grasping at smoke; the faint sensation was there, but he couldn’t take hold of anything solid.

Dr. Portello sighed softly, pulling an extra chair from across the room over to Carlton’s hospital bed. Sitting down, he took a bit longer than needed before speaking. “We only know what we pieced together. From what we can tel, you tried to fight this man off. He got the upper hand and slammed your head against a solid surface - most likely the car - a few times. That’s why your head hurts; you have a concussion. Your shoulder is in a sling, and there are stitches. It was a bullet wound. According to the police who arrived on the scene, the kidnapper was about to shoot you when they got there. He must have knocked you out, and then planned to kill you. You’re one lucky--”

Then Carlton remembered. “Luke.”

“What?”

“Luke. Where’s Luke?” Silence. “The boy, where’s the boy?”

Silence again. Only this was far heavier a silence; a dark silence.

Carlton looked hard at the doctor. “Where’s Luke?”

When Dr. Portello finally spoke, his voice was quiet and almost uncertain. “He… the police said he was hardly breathing when they arrived. They couldn’t save him. I’m sorry.”

No one spoke for quite some time. Carlton felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. _They couldn’t save him._

Carlton hadn’t saved him. No, he had made it worse. And he knew that.

He didn’t speak anymore after that. Dr. Portello and Carlton’s mother deemed it as a sign to leave him alone for the timebeing.

So he was left with only his thoughts. 

 

“Psst. Why are we hiding?” 

“We have to.” Carlton glanced back at the boy for a moment. “Shh.”

“I’m scared.” Tears were coming now, and the boy’s voice trembled. “I want Mommy.” 

Carlton didn’t respond; he didn’t know what to say that would be of any comfort whatsoever. So he remained silent, glancing around at the grass surrounding them. 

“Mommy! I’m scared!” The boy looked around frantically, chest heaving with rapid, shallow breaths. 

“Hey, it’s-it’s okay, you’ll be back with her soon,” Carlton said in a hushed voice, trying to be reassuring and feeling as though he had failed completely.

And then the boy sprang up and bolted.

Carlton rose to his feet, about to follow, only to find himself suddenly frozen in place, unable to move. 

Time slowed down., Another form appeared as though out of thin air, raising its hand.

Carlton couldn’t even shout a warning. A loud crack split the air. Then he was transported instantly to the boy. He wasn’t running anymore. He was sprawled on the ground, shaking uncontrollably, gasping for breath amidst sobs. And red. So much red on one child’s shirt.

“Help…” 

Carlton tried to reach out; tried to lend the aid the boy asked for. But again, he was trapped in place and could only watch desperately as the boy bled out, asking for help that he couldn’t receive.

The last broken word to pass the boy’s lips was a frightened, whispered call for his mother.

_This is your fault. He’s dead because of you._

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“No--” 

_You may as well have killed him yourself._

 

Carlton sat bolt upright, breathing unevenly. He searched his surroundings - no grass. Just a bedroom ; backpack by the desk, last night’s jeans lying on the floor, tangled blankets, a copy of Shakespeare’s plays on the nightstand… 

He raked his hands through his hair, trying ot compose himself. Just a dream. It was just a dream.

A dream similar to all the ones he had suffered through over the last few months. Some were different, but all ended in exactly the same way - death and guilt.

After some time - a few years, a few therapists, and enrollment in the police academy - the nightmares stopped.

But Carlton never forgot. And he never forgave.


End file.
